Zheng Bohan stopped cursing Shang Yechu. He just sat on the sidelines, smoking one cigarette after another.

Shang Yechu spent every day immersed in the database of Room 103, digging out similar clips from past film and television materials and imitating them one by one. Her face was almost stiff from all the repetition. But other people's things are still other people's things. Those clips that looked perfectly harmonious in the original drama looked like stolen pieces on Shang Yechu's face.

How can laughter express grief? How can frivolity convey profundity? How can indulgence reveal restraint?

The scene took a week to film. The atmosphere on set grew increasingly tense, and Shang Yechu could sense that the way the other crew members looked at her was becoming stranger. That look, full of suspicion and impatience, was something Shang Yechu hated most.

Shang Yechu felt a profound loneliness. Besides that, there was a suffocating feeling of being ensnared by malice. —Shang Yechu knew this was just an illusion caused by excessive pressure.

There seemed to be something restless in the air, eroding the protagonist, Shang Yechu.

Shang Yechu nearly gave in several times, wanting to call anyone to confide in—Grandma Hu, Ji Juntao, and even once dialed Sheng Wenzhi's number. Ultimately, she held back.

They weren't professional actors, and aside from offering Shang Yechu a few words of encouragement, they did nothing to help solve the problem.

A few days later, news arrived that was hard to tell whether it was good or bad.

The awards ceremony for the Film Festival is about to begin.

This is Shang Yechu's first nomination in his film career, and he has to attend no matter what.

When Shang Yechu asked the director for leave, her heart sank deeper and deeper.

Her poor acting had already slowed down the production schedule, and now she was asking for leave to attend a film festival, making the already difficult filming process even worse. Shang Yechu herself felt that she was being troublesome and shameless.

When Xu Hanwen approved the leave, he raised his eyelids, his gaze as cold as a butcher's knife. Under that gaze, Shang Yechu felt as if she had shrunk into a tiny ball, pinned to the floor in front of Xu Hanwen by the tip of a knife.

After taking leave and leaving the film crew, the unease became even more pronounced. Shang Yechu felt countless strange gazes piercing her back, almost turning her into a hedgehog.

A strong sense of self-loathing welled up inside her, but Shang Yechu forcibly suppressed it.

Shang Yechu straightened her back and left the film crew like a victorious queen.

-----------

As soon as I stepped out of the hotel, a familiar figure came into view.

Shang Yechu frowned and stepped forward: "Shi Shan? What are you doing here?"

“I also asked the director for leave.” Shi Shan leaned back in the car, looking relaxed. “Most of my scenes are with you. If you leave, I can’t film. So I just asked for leave.”

Li Ruhui, as the ideal husband and wife, is the perfect accessory. Shi Shan wasn't wrong about that.

Shang Yechu had no idea that this was the real reason the other party was asking for leave: "Then why are you standing here—?"

Shi Shan smiled gently: "I heard that Park Se-jin is attending the Film Festival this year. He is one of my favorite directors."

Shang Yechu recalled who Shi Shan was referring to: "The director of 'Blazing Green'?"

"Hmm." A cool winter breeze was blowing. Shi Shan put his hands in his trench coat pockets and leaned slightly towards Shang Yechu. "Could you get me his autograph?"

So it was just a small matter. Shang Yechu readily agreed: "Of course. You could have just mentioned it on WeChat, why did you have to come all this way in person?"

Shi Shan laughed and said, "Of course Li Ruhui will follow Li Yiming."

Shi Shan's intention was simply that it would be too conspicuous for Shang Yechu to take leave alone, so he decided to take leave himself as well to help Shang Yechu share some of the burden.

This idea didn't move Shang Yechu; instead, she subconsciously resisted it: "There's no need. You can go back now. I've noted down the autograph request."

Seeing Shang Yechu's lack of courtesy, Shi Shan's smile widened even more: "Then thank you. Do you need me to take you to the airport?"

"No need," Shang Yechu said curtly. "I appreciate the thought."

Shang Yechu was unaccustomed to this forced acceptance of "sharing weal and woe." It felt like being forced to do someone a favor.

Shi Shan didn't press the matter. After thanking Shang Yechu again, he left without looking back. It seemed he really had only come to ask for an autograph.

Shang Yechu was driven by Aunt Cai in a Mercedes-Benz all the way to Ruguan Airport, where she boarded a flight to Baogang.